


A Dream

by GhostClimber



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, M/M, Not Beta Read, Superbi Squalo is So Done, Time Travel, big mama luss, i don't really know if he dies, the varia version of fluffiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26323375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostClimber/pseuds/GhostClimber
Summary: I shake my head, trying to fight back the oppressive sensation of dejà-vu I have been hit by, all of a sudden.Of course I have already seen this scene, moreover: the purpose of my travel back in time, helped by one of the Bovino's machinery, was just living that moment over again and change its tragic conclusion.
Relationships: Superbi Squalo/Xanxus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	A Dream

I shake my head, trying to fight back the oppressive sensation of dejà-vu I have been hit by, all of a sudden.  
Of course I have already seen this scene, moreover: the purpose of my travel back in time, helped by one of the Bovino's machinery, was just living that moment over again and change its tragic conclusion.  
Xanxus huffs, at my side, and my heart jumps in my chest. I cross his glance and throw a smirk at him: I know he is secretly having fun. After all, having passed eight years secluded into ice, it's almost as if he still was a teenager, at least for some things, and Halloween celebrations are one of those things.  
No gaudy costume, not for me and not for him, even if Belphegor didn't have to insist that much to convince us to put on those pointed vampire teeth. The blonde, instead, is dressed up as a zombie, and at his side our new recruit, Fran, is bouncing up and down, also dressed as an undead. Lussuria, as usual, had to go over the line, and is rocking a flamboyant killer clown costume, and his make up is so on point that it would grant him a job in Hollywood if they were to notice; Levi didn't dress up, but Viper added the illusion of a surgical cut on his forehead and that was enough to make him look extremely similar to the Frankenstein monster.  
Yes, that's it, we're trick-or-treating for the benefit of the two youngsters of the group, with Xanxus' compliance: he will be forced for the whole night to pretend he is not having fun, and here I am beside him, willing to admit that seeing Belphegor holding Fran's hand is a scene that pays me back for all the cold air I'm tolerating. If, in the first days, our Psycho Prince's closeness with that shy illusionist had made us worry, after a year when we could notice constant and extraordinary improvements in his behaviour we had to conclude that that green-haired brat was really doing good to him.  
Even Xanxus had acknowledged it, in one of his rare moments of almost-tenderness: while he was playing with my hair, one of those nights when I lingered in his bed after our intercourse, I clearly heard him mutter that maybe, sometimes, even us élite killers need someone to love. I maybe am more floppy than I want to admit, but I interpreted that sentence of his like an implicit declaration.

His fingers brush against mine, a contact that if seen will look accidental, and they're hot. Xanxus has a warmer body temperature than the average, because of the Flames that burn in his veins, and in the long winter nights, when sleep is yet to come and dawn seems an impossible concept to understand, his warm body lying down beside mine is a comfort I could not let go of anymore.  
I turn towards him and I steal another picture of his fierce profile, of the everlasting frown that doesn't go away even when we make love – yes, love, because even if we never talked about our encounters, I know they are something more then mere sex, I feel it from the touch of his hands on my skin, possessive and imperative and yet also caressing, I guess it from the way he brushes the curve of my tailbone when he sinks in me, almost like he wanted to erase the pain the way someone could erase a writing on a blackboard, I know for sure thanks to the feeling of his lips on my neck, kisses that aren't hot only for lust and passion, but for something more, something that doesn't warm up just my loins but also my chest.  
I look back at Belphegor and Fran and I once again wonder how they can look so tender even when they menace and insult each other at least ten times a day. They are both holding some orange plastic pumpkins, provided by Lussuria (who else?) and they're comparing the sweets they received. -The Prince wants all of the chocolate!  
-Bel senpai, you'll get fat as a pig if you eat all the chocolate!  
-Ushishishishishi, Princes don't get fat!  
-The fake ones do. At least give me the fruit gummy.  
-Just because the Prince doesn't like them, uncute kouhai.- I have already seen this scene, but Belphegor that first puts a handful of candies in Fran's plastic pumpkin and then unwraps one and put it in the other's mouth is something so illogical and incredible that I smile again, run over by a sloppiness that just doesn't look good on me.  
Yes, I think I'm becoming weaker with age.  
-They get the candies, and I get the cavities.- Xanxus mutters, and hearing his voice is a balm.  
I turn towards him to make some comment about dentists and flossing, but there's no one by my side.  
-Xanxus!- I call, desperately. No, no, no, I was here to avoid this, and also we still had to reach the house of those idiots that had given Fran a caramel onion stating it was an apple, the one who later on had paid in blood for their abuse, by Belphegor's hand.  
It was during the mess for that massacre that I had lost sight of Xanxus, not before!  
-XANXUS!- I yell. Maybe he is only hidden behind a tree to take a piss, now he'll come out zipping up his pants and he will tell me that next time he will piss in my cupped hands so I can get rid of it when I prefer, or something equally stupid and offensive, but he doesn't come out.  
-Squ chan, what's the matter?- Lussuria chirps, and if I normally would be telling him he has to throw away his corny tones if he wants to stay in character, now there's no time.  
-VOI! Lussuria, where is he? Have you seen him?  
-Maybe he's taking a leak, isn't he?  
-Or he got fed up with this shit and he headed back home.- Levi mutters, and I start to feel unease. I'm trying to remember whether I told them what is going to happen, but I just can't.  
I blabber, incapable to speak, while I realise there's no more time to brief them, and that if I screamed now that Xanxus is about to die they'll only make fun of me.  
I don't know why I think this, they're my colleagues and they know that when I'm talking about the Boss' safety I'm always serious, but somehow I'm convinced that this time they'll just laugh in my face.  
A tremendous pang hits my nub up into my whole left arm, up to the shoulder, and I realise I can't waste a second more: when Xanxus is in danger, I feel discomfort at my nub, but I never felt such pain. This time is different, it's like someone is shoving a boiling-hot knitting needle into my arm; it hurts to the point that I have to take off my prosthetic hand in a hurry to ease the pressure. I let it fall where it will, while I start to run to reach Xanxus, to find him wherever he is.  
I hear some noise, like a loud argument, and I run towards the source of the sound, holding my arm against my chest in hope of sedating the mind-numbing sharp pain that keeps torturing it, then the noise reaches its peak.  
A gunshot, neat and clear, it doesn't echo, it's impossible to mistake it for a firecracker, at least it is for a member of the Mafia.  
-XANXUS!- I scream again, and I can't even be ashamed of the desperation I hear in my own voice; more than a scream, it is a cry for pain, loud and strong like the noise of my heart breaking in my chest. For some reason, even if I have meticulously planned even the tiniest detail, reviewing and re-elaborating it with my colleagues, I have once again arrived too late, I haven't reacted in time, I was holding in my hands the life of my Boss, my lover, my partner, and like a stubborn child I absent-mindedly let it fall.  
I run at a breakneck speed, my lugs are enclosed in the grip of terror, my head is light and it hurts for the lack of oxygen, but I don't care, it seems to me that if I can get there before Xanxus' body hits the ground I will somehow manage to save him, to get him back in change of the miserable lives of those who had dared to try and take it away.  
But when I arrive at the dock, no one's there.  
There's just a seagull somewhere, screaming his melancholy scream in the air, void and stinky of fish, undertow, combustible oil and wastes. A vague smell of gunpowder seems to linger in the atmosphere, seems like a trail left for me and me only, and I follow.  
And I see him.  
Xanxus lies on the ground, prone, composed.  
I reach his side, and I eventually manage to understand that the strange sound that is now accompanying the scream of the seagull comes from my throat: it is a funeral moan. A funeral moan, but not a requiem, for there is no requiem strong enough to mend my sorrow.  
I turn Xanxus' body around, and it is heavy, as if he had gained weight all of a sudden: it is anguishing and terrorizing, and for a second I find myself telling me that it's not him, it can't be him. I've had his body over mine a countless number of times, I've lifted him with my own strenght when he fell asleep over my chest and I have never perceived him so heavy.  
I manage to turn him on his back, and for a moment my conviction is so strong that I don't see his face, but the face of a stranger, and I think that I probably stumped into a street fight and this thing I'm touching is the corpse of a common idiot that got himself on the trajectory of a bullet.  
Then, I recognise his frown.  
His eyebrows are frowned up as usual, even if the rest of his face is relaxed, almost sloppy, deprived by the life that up until a few minutes ago made his mouth narrow and his jawline contracted. A tiny strain of blood and saliva trails from his lower lip down to his chin, and it sadistically reminds me of the make up that Lussuria had used on himself.  
He's dead.  
I push his chin, trying to wake him up, but his head falls back like the one of a doll, stopping only when his lobe touches the ground, ending the weak backspin.  
I see the hole at the centre of his chest, neat yet uneven, I could count the wires that branch from the rip in his dress shirt, and I wonder if counting them for real would help me avoid for some more minutes, for some more hours, the unavoidable arrival of the unbearable sorrow for the loss of the man I love.  
Then, reality calls me back.  
First of all, the plan didn't involve going out of the house, I remember. The plan was tricking the killers with Fran's illusion, and enchain them with Mammon's. Then, Lussuria and Levi would get them, take them to us, and me and my past self would slaughter the hell out of them, transforming them in stinky bunches of blood and tissues.  
Second, even in the improbable hypothesis where we had changed our plan and I somehow forgot about it, my colleagues and the Boss would know about what was going to happen. Xanxus would have never left my side, Lussuria and Levi wouldn't have discharged my worries as exaggerated and paranoid, and I would have felt like trusting them, like I always did since when Xanxus and I have admitted them in the Elite Squad. Because, yes, we are killer, and yes, we are men of the Mafia, but we wouldn't be worth a dime if we didn't unconditionally believe in each other. Levi and I tolerate each other just because Xanxus tells us so, and God knows how much I'd want to throw Lussuria's entire wardrobe in the fire and replace it with something less horrible, and yes, Belphegor makes my nerves snap at least once a day, but when it comes to fighting I never hesitated to put my whole life in their hands. I never once brushed the idea to do otherwise. I got their backs, they got mine.  
-Squ chan!- Lussuria calls, and here's the anxiety in his voice, and all of my logical considerations fall to pieces. Now you have to be the worrying kind? You stupid useless faggot, now you realise? If you moved your dumb ass ten minutes ago, Xanxus would be still alive and...  
-Squ chan, for Heaven's sake, wake up!- and I'm falling.

While my body falls into nothingness, I move. I know that it is useless, that I won't be learning how to fly by waving my arms, but I do it anyway, and suddenly I feel the sensation of the cold sheets that are enveloping my body, of the wool blanket weighting on my legs, and then there are Lussuria's arms, holding me in a hug so unwanted as it was comforting.  
-Squ chan, breathe. It was just a bad dream, it will go away.- Lussuria whispers, and the temptation of holding onto that murderous, necrophilic queer who claimed himself to be the group's mom is so strong that I have to bite my tongue not to do it.  
I squirm into his hold, but he doesn't let go and my eyes land on Xanxus' half of the bed, empty, cold and unwrinkled, and I give in to Lussuria's cares and I lean on his chest.  
-It's alright. It will be alright.- Lussuria goes on, and the certainty in his voice is such that I can almost believe him. Then, the sensation of being abandoned that I felt in my dream jumps over me once again, trying to capture me with its last strains, tentacles of oneiric mist that try to pass the boundaries between dreamland and reality.  
-Do you want to tell me? If you tell someone, the dream won't become true.- Lussuria whispers, and his voice is so warm and so intimate that all of a sudden I realize that we are alone, he and I, and it seems like going back to when I was a child, when I still believed there was a God that wasn't Xanxus and I confessed every Sunday before Mass. The comfort coming from the voice of the friar, hidden by the grate, the implicit certainty that God does exist and that God does forgive his Sons, the patient way of listening to my sins and my regret, all of this is nothing if compared to the sweet yet strong support coming from Lussuria.  
-I dreamed I failed.- I confess, and I have to fight back the strange urge to add “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned”.  
-I thought it was it. But it won't happen, I promise.  
-You will believe me, will you?- I ask, and my voice is just a breath.  
-Of course we will, Squ chan.- the certainty in his voice is really the one of a mother, a mother helping his boy out of a nightmare, telling him that mama loves him, papa loves him, everyone's alive and tomorrow the sun will rise again.  
I relax in Lussuria's arms, and I don't know when I fall in a bitter but dreamless sleep.  
Because I will do it, I'll save Xanxus, I'll get him back.  
Because I am Superbi Squalo, and Superbi Squalo can't fail.

A happy laughter, that makes me think about sushi and baseball courts, resounds in the void of the dark nothingness in which I'm buried.  
And here I am, once again, falling.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I don't know what happens next. My neverending love for the "and they lived happily ever after" tells me that Squalo will succeed, they will get married and have a lot of... uhm... cats, according to the fact that they both have penises and I don't like Mpregs.  
> Anyway, this was a nightmare I had last night, it started well with me thinking "WOAH I'm Squalo!" and then everything fell to pieces. I woke up so terrified and scared that I had to write it to get rid of it.  
> I hope you liked it, kudos and comments are always welcome!  
> XOXO


End file.
